


UST

by Apetslife



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:32:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey TRIES to leave town, he really does. Angel and Lindsey bicker.  Then, well, yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	UST

FUUUUUCK.

All it took was one illegal u-turn, and Lindsey figured out that the  
cops that had followed him for the last ten minutes were doing so for  
a REASON. Damn Angel. Damn sign. And he called LINDSEY immature?  
He signed off on the ticket with great ill grace, tore the sign off  
the back of his precious truck, *no WONDER he was petting it like a  
puppy. Gotta make sure the tape sticks, right, Ange?*, stomped on it  
a few times, got back in the cab, and fumed.

OK, so maybe he was a little immature. Maybe he was regressing back  
to high school or something, but Wolfram and Hart or no Wolfram and  
Hart, this kind of thing just could not go unanswered. It would be a  
violation of the guy code. Now that he was back to enjoying himself,  
evil hand and all, snicker, this was very clear to him.

So. Huh. What to do.

*******

Angel popped his head through the tunnel entrance, and took a wary  
look around. It was very late, after all, so he SHOULD be ok...all  
the lights were out, just a dim orange glow from the streetlights  
outside. No Cordelia, or, thank GOD, Wesley. If anyone had told him  
six months ago that he would be taking asinine orders from Wesley  
Wyndham Price, he'd have...probably stared blankly at them, and gone  
away to draw a picture of Darla. Which was why he was in this stupid  
situation to begin with. 

He sighed, hauled himself out of the tunnel, and ran a distracted  
hand through his hair. They were his friends, sure. He was worried  
about Cordelia, yes. Gunn was an annoying punk, always. But was it  
too much to ask that they behave like adults? Just occasionally? So  
he didn't feel so much like an ancient babysitter all the time?  
Probably. It was his bed, after all. He'd made it, he'd lie in it,  
and damn it, he'd even smile about it to keep the Princess happy.  
But every once in a while-

THUMP.

What the?

It was strange, but Angel actually felt much more comfortable facing  
attack alone. That way, he didn't have to worry about Wes chopping  
his own foot off, or Angel's HEAD off, by accident, or fret about  
Cordelia and her appalling lack of a sense of self-preservation--she  
HAD grown up on the Hellmouth, for God's sake--or worry that Gunn's  
axe was going to come flying apart at a critical moment. So as he  
stalked towards the front door, there was a little smile tugging at  
his lips, and he twirled the battleaxe in his hand with something  
approaching anticipation. There was something outside his hotel that  
was NOT supposed to be there. This was going to be fun.

There was a ladder blocking his door. This was unusual. He looked  
up. Froze. Gaped. And laughed so hard he was worried about his  
soul staying put.

******

He'd had a RELIABLE report putting Angel miles from here, goddamn  
it. GodDAMN it. This was, well, on the long list of embarrassing  
situations Angel had seen him in, this was really not THAT bad.  
Hanging from stonework with a giant sign in one hand. In the dark.  
Could happen to anyone. Anyone who had forgotten he had two hands,  
had panicked and grabbed hard with his left and kicked a ladder  
away. 

Nothing EVER went right for him around that man. Vampire.  
Whatever. Angel was like his own personal reverse-rabbits-foot or  
something. Who was currently hooting, holding his sides, and were  
those TEARS on his face? Jesus. 

"Angel."

Angel was bent over now, braced on his knees, gasping for unneeded  
breath. OK, it wasn't THAT funny.

"ANGEL."

Still no answer. More laughing. Shit.

"Angel, if you're done being an idiot down there, could you grab me  
the ladder? Angel? HEY YOU! LAUGHING BOY!"

Lindsey knew that yelling would only make it worse. Couldn't help  
himself, not the least little bit.

"Lin...Lin...Lin..." Angel was hiccuping. 

"Angel, Angel, Angel." He sneered. "Get it together, would you? My  
hands are getting tired." *Not that you'd care, you freak. Oh,  
wait, help the hopeless. That would definitely be me right now.*

"Do you...you should see yourself. Oh man." Angel straightened,  
wiped his eyes. Looked up again. Giggled. GIGGLED, and damn that  
was a disturbing sight. Two hundred-odd pounds of giggling ancient  
vampire. No wonder they didn't give more of them souls. 

"Angel..." He tried to sound patient, he really did, but he was  
braced against a ledge of stonework, hands holding hard to a  
gargoyle, and he had the unpleasant feeling that his boots were  
slipping. *Note to self: do not wear cowboy boots when climbing.* 

Still snickering, occasionally, Angel reached down, grabbed the  
ladder, hefted it with annoying ease. Did not set it against the  
building. 

"Angel...my hands are slipping, here." And they were. Sweating.

"What's on the sign, Linds?" It was kind of crumpled, and facing the  
building, so he couldn't see it. Thank god for small favors.

"None of your business. Angel, LADDER!"

"Oh, I think it's my business. You're hanging it outside MY home,  
after all. Just drop it, Lindsey. It'll make it easier to hold on."

"No. No way. Just...just set the ladder up, and I'll get down, and  
you'll never see me again, ok? C'mon." He HATED this.

"Drop the sign, and we'll talk about the ladder."

"I don't WANT to talk about the ladder, I want you to put it up, so I  
can get DOWN. Angel. You're a good guy, right? Horse, white hat,  
sunset...well, maybe not the sunset...it's your job. Come on. Help  
me out here."

"Sign. And stop trying to change the subject."

"You know, I liked you a lot better when you were broody and  
uncommunicative."

"You know, I never liked you at all, so if you don't want to spend  
the rest of your life up there, drop the sign already."

"Already? Angel, you're starting to talk like a Valley Girl. Oh,  
fine, no, don't walk away! OK! I'm dropping the sign. See?  
Dropped. Just...don't leave me up here. It was a joke. Big joke.  
Get me down now, please."

Angel strolled back, spread the sign out on the sidewalk.  
Contemplated it. Lindsey could read the large black print on the  
white background from his perch...hell, he'd MEANT for the thing to  
be visible. FREE CRACK HERE!! He was rather proud of the fact that  
he'd gotten felt tip marker to look so professional. Attention to  
detail, that was him. Fuck. Angel wasn't moving.

"It was a joke. Someone would have noticed it first thing, you would  
have taken it down, no harm, no foul. Oh, AND you should be paying  
my ticket. Gee, officer, I have no idea how that got there.  
Right." He scowled down. Angel scowled up.

"This is SO fuckin' immature, Lindsey."

"Oh, and you're just the biggest grownup _I_ know. Come on, Angel.  
I'm about to fall." And he was, his hands were starting to slip and  
his legs were shaking, and maybe a little desperation got through,  
because Angel sighed, and set up the ladder, and he clung to it like  
a baby monkey for a minute before unbending his knees far enough to  
creep down. 

On the ground again, oh heavenly sidewalk. Oh, large annoyed vampire  
enemy. Uh-oh.

"Very bright idea, Linds. Turned out just as well as the rest of  
them, I see." He was doing that insouciant lounge against the wall,  
the one that made Lindsey want to just smack the smugness right out  
of him.

"Oh, yeah, Ange, like YOU'RE the king of the successful plan." He  
rolled his eyes. "Whatever." Wiped still-shaking, still-sweating  
palms against his jeans, and locked his knees to keep from collapsing.

"Ange?" One eyebrow raised.

"Linds?" Returned.

"I really don't think we're at an appropriate place in our  
relationship for pet names, Lindsey." Smirk. Fucker.

"Yeah, yeah, glad this is so amusing for you." The knees finally  
gave out, and he sat down HARD on the curb.

"You always amuse me. You're my own private court jester." But he  
made a little worried movement towards the curb himself. Lindsey  
smiled.

"Glad to be of service, as always. You know, since the antics of you  
and your little team of, um, crimefighters livened up many a board  
meeting, and all."

Scowl. Angel didn't think that was funny. Tough shit.

"Was that before or after you tried to ruin my life entirely?"

"Oh, during. Those were the best parts." Lindsey knew he had a  
positively evil grin sometimes, and he chose to exercise it now.

Angel took a threatening step forward, and loomed over him. Damn he  
was big. Too bad Lindsey was in no shape for running, at the  
moment. *Crap. I think I'm getting a cramp.*

"I didn't think it was very funny."

"I know." Surreptitiously trying to rub out the tightening in his  
thigh before it got really bad. Ouch.

"Feeling yourself up, now? We're in LA, even you should be able to  
find a willing hooker."

"NO, you ass, my leg is cramping up. Thanks to your little giggle-  
fit. That was really disturbing, Angel, don't laugh anymore."

"How can I help it, when you're around making an idiot of yourself  
all the time?"

Lindsey rolled his eyes, rubbed harder. OUCH! Couldn't really think  
of anything to say, when OUCH OUCH OUCH there it went, full cramp,  
ARGH! He could feel his teeth grinding, and bent over his legs,  
fingers digging in. 

"Lindsey?"

Can't talk now, Angel, please go away.

"You're not going to get me to feel bad for you, not when it was your  
own stupidity that got you up there in the first place."

Fine, whatever, go away.

"Shit. Lindsey, get up."

Can't. Go away.

"Get off my curb. Can't have you bringing down my property values."

"Shut UP! ARGH! FUCK this hurts. Shut UP, ANGEL!" He'd snapped,  
now he'd get killed, hooray for him. He knew he probably looked  
pathetic, curled over himself on the roadside. Maybe Angel would  
leave and he could get mugged, that would be just perfect.

"Huh. What are you supposed to do for a cramp?"

"I don't KNOW, ok? JESUS, just leave me alone!" 

There were hands on him, pulling him up, and he couldn't really do  
much but whimper with the pain that moving sent through his whole  
body. Damn this. An arm around his waist, and he was getting  
hauled...into the hotel? Maybe Angel didn't want to kill him with an  
audience. He was dumped onto a couch unceremoniously, both hands  
still wrapped tight around his rigid thigh, OUCH, heard the chime of  
liquid hitting glass, and then there was a tumbler getting shoved  
into his face, and he could smell the scotch. Hey. Relax the  
muscle, right? He grabbed for it, gulped it down, could feel the  
burn in his throat and his stomach and waited. Looked up, and Angel  
was stitting beside him, looking disapproving.

"You really ARE low class. You don't SHOOT scotch. That took 25  
years to make, show some respect."

"Fuck THAT." He gasped out, but he could feel a slight loosening,  
and almost sighed with the pleasure of less-pain. "I'm not trying to  
savor it, you idiot, I just want it to work."

"Still."

"Yeah, yeah, stand up for the other old things you have laying around  
this place."

"I'm not that old!"

"Angel, you were around before this COUNTRY was. You're fuckin'  
ANCIENT."

"I was only twenty-three..."

"Doesn't make a difference. Just because you didn't AGE doesn't make  
you young. Though you wouldn't know it, the way you act. Do they  
have kindergarten for vampires?"

"Speaking of young. Hey, now that you're unemployed, maybe you  
should take up signmaking. It's an ancient and honorable  
profession. And if you try to hang 'em yourself, you could even  
charge admission."

It was the whiskey. It had to be, because he would NOT be almost  
smiling, otherwise.

"It's not a BAD idea. If your crayon-scribbles are anything to judge  
by, I wouldn't have much competition."

"Mine worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah, thanks for almost getting me shot."

"Anytime." Angel got up, poured him another few fingers of that  
*really very good* scotch, got one for himself, came back. Lindsey  
was tempted to just down this one too, but he didn't think he could  
get off the couch to escape if he did. He sipped, delicately. Nice.

"So. What ARE you going to do?" Angel actually sounded curious. 

"Why? You gonna miss me?"

Snort. "Yeah, almost as much as I miss a stake in my heart."

"Hey, there's an idea. I could arrange that, you know, since you're  
all excited about it."

"Sarcasm, Linds. Look it up."

"MORE sarcasm, Ange, I'm the one who actually went to college here,  
and boy does it show."

"How's the leg? Can I amputate? I mean, now that you're all used to  
being without a limb...shouldn't be a shock or anything."

"Oh, VERY funny. So funny I wish I could kill myself."

"Really?"

"No. Moron."

Angel was smiling, even though he kept drinking to try to hide it.  
Lindsey felt an answering tug at his own lips. No, not finding Angel  
funny here. Or. *Shudder.* Cute. Not at all.

"Loser."

"Idiot."

"Fuckup."

"Hey, you fuck up almost as often as I do."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Oh, shit, I left my guitar in the back of the truck!" Lindsey  
bolted up, fell back. Lots of whiskey fast on empty stomach and  
still-weak left leg, not good for standing. Check.

"I'm sure it's gone already."

"No, no, it can't be, I gotta go get it..." He struggled to his  
feet, limped slowly and painfully towards the door. Felt eyes on  
him, heard the sigh.

"Lindsey, sit down. I'll check. Jesus, you're a pain in the ass."

He turned, hobbled back. Batted his eyelashes.

"Angel, you're my HERO." Smiled his biggest and most insincere smile.

"Don't make me regret this more than I already do." He stood,  
stomped out the door.

It was awfully quiet in here. High ceilings, dark. Lots of empty  
air. He wondered if Angel ever got lonely here. Nah. Perfect place  
for brooding, after all, though Angel didn't seem particularly broody  
when HE was around. He felt himself grinning. 

Heard the door swing open, then shut, open again, "shit!", and SLAM.  
Huh. Guess Angel wasn't so good at handling doors and guitar cases  
at the same time. Damned if HE was getting off the couch to help the  
big strong manly vampire, though.

"Lindsey..." His guitar and duffel bag were dropped at his feet, and  
he winced at the jangle of abused strings.

"Hey! Go easy on that! That's a Taylor Classic, I'll have you know."

"It's a WHAT? And you're VERY welcome, by the way."

"A Taylor Classic." He bent down, popped the latches on the case,  
took out the guitar to check for cracks. "It's ok, baby, the big  
mean vampire didn't mean to hurt you..." He crooned to it. His  
baby. Angel was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "WHAT? I  
mean, I know you're musically impaired, or something, but even you  
should know better than to go around dropping instruments."

"I'm not musically impaired!"

"Yeah, right. I've heard you sing." Shudder.

"What? When?"

"At Caritas. You didn't see me. You were singing Manilow. MANILOW,  
Angel!"

"HEY! I like Manilow!"

"Not if you were singing his stuff like THAT, you don't."

Was Angel pouting? Yes, yes he was.

"Not like you're so much better. What was that caterwauling you were  
doing up there the other night?"

Lindsey just looked at him, in disbelief. He'd worked his way  
through law school, singing. People paid to hear him play. He knew  
damn well what he sounded like. Could it be...

"Angel, are you tone deaf?"

"No, and at least I'm not really, really short."

"No," he shook his head impatiently, "it's a serious question. Can  
you tell the difference between this-" he strummed an easy C  
chord, "and this?" He modulated to E.

"Yeah. Kind of. One's...higher, right?" Ah, confusion in those  
dark eyes.

"No wonder you can't sing. You're tone deaf. It's a thing, you  
can't really tell the difference between notes."

"I can."

"No, you can't." 

"I CAN!"

"OK, fine." He sniffed, kept playing. He loved to play when he was  
drunk. Was he drunk? Yeah, kinda. Good scotch. He paused to hold  
out his glass. Looked at Angel.

"I don't know if you get another one, after the way you treated the  
first one."

"Come ON, Angel, get over it. It's good stuff. I admit it. I'll  
treat it with the respect due its age."

"Haven't proved it so far."

"Angel, you're like a ten year old in a bicentenian body. Come on."

"I don't think that's a word, Linds."

"Get me a DRINK, Ange."

"Fine." He got up, again. Came back, again, and sat on the other  
side of Lindsey, watching his hands. Nothing complicated, a nice  
little 12-bar blues, just right for the hotel and the darkness. He  
didn't sing. Angel wouldn't appreciate it anyway. Tone-deaf bastard.

"Is that hard?" The voice almost startled him.

"Nah. I've been playing since I was little."

"You're still little."

"Fuck off, Angel." No heat, though. This was...nice.

"Think I could learn?"

"Probably." He probably could. Chords were nice and structured, no  
ear required. Well, mostly.

"Show me?"

What? OK, this was Twilight Zone time. He felt himself nod, hand  
over the guitar, saw Angel's big hands fold around the neck--lucky  
fuck, long fingers, no problems reaching for the chords,and hey, long  
fingers meant, no, not going there at all--and look up at him  
expectantly.

******

Whiskey and someone to talk to. This was actually not the nightmare  
he'd thought it would be. And he COULD tell the difference between  
good music and bad music. Mostly. He could tell that Lindsey knew  
what he was doing, at least. And he'd always wanted to learn to play  
an instrument. He ignored the little voice that suggested that no,  
he really hadn't, that he actually kind of wanted an excuse to keep  
Lindsey here a little longer, because he was funny, and he did that  
eyelash-batting thing that made Angel's stomach flip. That little  
voice needed to shut up. He took another swallow of the scotch.  
Glenlivet. 

"OK, so, first, you have to hold it right."

"Yeah, that's what I said, but she wouldn't listen." Oh god, had  
that really come out of his mouth? From Lindsey's surprised grin, it  
had.

"No dirty jokes, Angel, you'll sully your image."

He grunted. "Show me."

"Quit attempting to grow a sense of humor, and I will."

"FINE, get to it, already."

"Valley girl."

"Are you going to show me how to play this, so that after I kill you  
it won't be neglected?"

"Sure. Fine. This hand goes HERE..." Warm hands folding around his  
fingers, moving them into place, and it was awfully nice to be  
touched. 

"Now, this is A. Very easy chord. Just hold down the strings, and,  
strum. No, you have to do it a little faster than that, playing each  
string one by one doesn't sound good."

"You were doing it that way."

"I was fingerpicking, Angel. You're not quite there yet. Now strum."

He strummed. It sounded pretty good. He grinned up at Lindsey, who  
smiled back. Nice smile. Nice eyes. Oh, shit, he was drunk.

"OK, here's E. Also easy. Just..." Angel wasn't even pretending to  
pay attention any more. Pretty Lindsey. Who had smelled like  
another man on MORE than one occasion. He let his fingers get moved  
around, strummed again, still sounded pretty good. So did D. And  
then...

"OK, you now know the three chords that comprise a song. Actually a  
couple."

"Like what?"

"Um...you know Janis Joplin?"

"Personally?"

"She's DEAD, Angel." Lindsey was rolling his eyes a lot. "She was  
only the greatest blues singer of the 70's. OK, ONE of the  
greatest. But still."

"No."

"Why am I not surprised. Um...how about 'Scarborough Fair?' Folk  
song, right vintage for you." He smirked. Angel wanted to lick him.

"Nope."

"OK, fine. You know three chords which make up songs that you don't  
know. That's enough. Here endeth the lesson. Which rock have you  
been living under? Was it comfortable?"

"I was living in sewers eating rats. It wasn't very fun."

"Are you sure? Seems like you'd found your natural place in the  
order of things, really."

Suddenly, Angel was tired. Tired of the banter, tired of the guitar,  
tired of this night. He put down the guitar, carefully, and stood.

"Yeah, well. I'm going to bed, you're leaving. Don't let the door  
hit your ass on the way out." He tried to move away, but a hand  
grabbed his wrist. A right hand. Seemed like Lindsey was getting  
those reflexes back just fine. He looked down, into a frown.

"Siddown, Angel, and quit being such a girl."

"I am NOT a girl."

"Are so." Lindsey was grinning now.

"Am not." He was grinning too. How did he DO this to him?

"Are SO!"

"Am NOT! And I'll prove it..."

His mind had to be completely gone. It was obviously Lindsey's  
fault. Because when he bent down and kissed him, HARD, pushing him  
back into the couch, Lindsey didn't punch him or bite him or  
anything, just kind of melted, and made a little moaning sound in the  
back of his throat that sounded like sex, and grabbed his shoulders  
and his hair. He let himself play, for just a minute, in the hot wet  
heat of Lindsey's mouth, tasting scotch and spice and want, letting  
his weight settle a little into the hands that were curving into him,  
onto the body on the couch.

Pulled back.

"If I was a girl, LINDS, you wouldn't be making that noise."

Dazed blue eyes stared up at him, blinked. A tongue came out to  
taste his lips. Those were kissing lips. Cocksucking lips. Good  
thing Lindsey was bent enough to make good use of them.

"How...?"

He smirked, still leaning over Lindsey.

"I can smell them. Vampire perk. You don't smell like women very  
often, Lin."

"You mean you can tell when anyone gets laid?" He seemed genuinely  
curious.

"Yeah. And who, mostly, and when."

"That doesn't bug you? With the curse and all?"

"Not anymore. I get to have sex now. Kind of."

"Hey. Excellent." And he reached up, grabbed another handful of  
Angel, and pulled him down.

******

OK, probably not the brightest idea of his career, but Lindsey had  
made a habit of poor impulse control, so why stop now? And Angel's  
mouth had been cool and sweet, and the weight above him was  
comforting, and he was drunk, and he was leaving town anyway. Plus,  
he'd thought Angel was the hottest thing on legs since the first time  
he'd met him. About as sharp as a sack of wet mice, but hot.

And now he was kissing him. It was good. Better than good, it was  
delicious. He wouldn't make any more age cracks, if two hundred odd  
years of experience taught someone how to kiss like this. Oh, who  
was he kidding, of course he would. But he appreciated it anyway.  
And he stopped thinking.

Big hands on him, just holding his waist, and a wide mouth that fit  
against his own just right. Angel was still kind of half-leaning  
over the couch, his knees braced on the cushions between Lin's knees,  
and a tongue slipping out to taste him, tangle with his own, lick at  
his lips until he was whimpering. He was very, very hard. So,  
apparently, was Angel, because when he was lifted and flipped, and  
laid down *god that was easy for him* Angel came down on top of him,  
cradled between his legs, and the evidence was, so to speak, to  
hand. And oh, the feeling...strong, big body over his, hands in his  
hair, now, and he was almost sorry he'd cut it, because then they'd  
be tangled there and that was always a good thing. Mouth slipping  
down to taste his throat, and his head was back, and maybe he should  
be worried. Nope. Angel was a card carrying Good Guy.

He squeaked when Angel dipped down and lapped at the hollow above his  
collarbone. How had his shirt come unbuttoned? Angel was smiling,  
he could feel that mouth move against him, even as he was kneading at  
overgelled hair with anxious hands. Because this felt so. fucking.  
good. Full-body tingle, oh yeah. Right where-JESUS-Angel's thigh  
was right THERE, and he was rocking against it, and that mouth was on  
his nipple, and all he could do was rock and gasp and try to  
breathe. Why hadn't they done this before? Oh, yeah, enemies, hand,  
whatever. Hey, evil hand. He grinned, even in the middle of his  
fever. Reached around Angel, grabbed a cheek, and PINCHED.

"Whu?" Angel shot up, a dazed look in his eyes. Maybe he'd been  
enjoying the rocking, too.

"Sorry. Evil hand." He held it up, wiggled the fingers, like proof.

"WHAT?" Angel looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh  
or kill him. He was still really hard, though, so Lindsey figured he  
was safe.

"You know. Evil hand. Can't help myself." He batted his eyelashes  
again, since it had seemed to work well last time.

"Yeah?" Apparently the eyelashes and the hardon had won. Angel was  
grinning like a madman. "What else does it do?"

"Oh, this and that. I can't really predict it. It's got a mind of  
its own, you know." He reached down, between their bodies. Grabbed  
something hard, and stroked a few times, enjoyed Angel's full-body  
shudder and the way his head fell back and his eyes slid shut. Then  
let go. "This and that." He kept smiling.

"Well, let it know that this and that is fine, but if it does any  
more pinching it's going to find itself in the garbage disposal."  
Lindsey liked the way Angel's eyes were crinkled up.

"Angel, a garbage disposal? That's awfully twentieth century of  
you. Are you sure you know how to work it?" 

"Yeah, pretty sure."

"I'm so proud."

"Lindsey, shut up." He pushed his hips down, and Lindsey whimpered  
and arched up, and Angel leaned in and kissed him again.

******

It was strange. This was so...friendly. No rush, no pressure, just  
heat and a gorgeous body underneath his, and, of course, the evil  
hand. God. Could Lindsey be any more ridiculous? Funny, though.  
Which was great, because it had been way too long since he had  
laughed in bed. In couch. 

"This couch is too short."

"Speak for yourself. I'm perfectly comfortable." Lindsey stretched  
his arms above his head luxuriantly, then let them drop back around  
Angel's neck. They felt pretty good there.

"We can't all be midgets."

"I'm not a midget, you're just freakishly big."

"Freakishly? I'll bet it's easier for me to find clothes than you."

"Whatever. Angel, the evil hand is getting ideas again."

"Yeah? I'm liking that hand, recently."

"I think you'll like it more in a minute."

He reached down, and there was the rough sound of a zipper and a hand  
right where he wanted it, and then his pants were getting shoved down  
his hips, and ok, maybe there was a little rush, because the feel of  
Lindsey's jeans against his crotch was setting him on fire. He  
nibbled at the side of Lindsey's neck, tasting sweat-salt-hot,  
feeling hands slide over his hips, down to the top of his thighs,  
back up to run under his shirt, push it up. Yes, he was a fan of the  
evil hand. Hot fingers on his back, tracing his ribs, and he moved  
back to Lindsey's mouth. Couldn't get enough of that mouth. Shirt  
off now. Yeah. Acres of soft skin. Softest skin, delicate under  
his fingertips. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed that before,  
what with all the Lindsey-torture he'd indulged in. OK, remember the  
guilt, have to hang on to the soul, but don't let it get in the way.  
Not with that sinful mouth available to him, and muscles bunching and  
flexing under his hands as Lindsey twisted and moaned. He was  
panting now. Little short breaths that were bringing him the smell  
of the man with him, taking it deep into his lungs, tasting it. He  
WANTED this.

Grabbed for the buttonfly jeans, and a yank and pull and the buttons  
popped off. Linds looked torn between laughter and shock, lips  
swollen and kiss-red, hands still on Angel's back, one shifting down  
to his hip.

"I need to WEAR those."

"Get 'em fixed. Send me the bill." Angel growled, hauling them down  
past his hips, getting stuck at his feet. He growled again, pulled  
them back up, stared at Lindsey's feet. Wondered if he would be  
kicked off the couch if he laughed, because...

Nice boots, Lindsey. HAH! 

He decided to bite his lip, tugged at the boots. Frowned. Tugged  
again. Looked up, and Lindsey was grinning at him.

"How do you get these off?"

"What? The great vamp detective, beaten by a pair of cowboy boots?"  
Smirk.

Angel leaned up, bared his teeth.

"Oh, I can get 'em off. But do you want to WEAR them again?"

"Damn, Angel, calm down. Here." He toed at one boot's heel, popped  
it off. Then held up the other one and looked at Angel expectantly.

"Do I look like a valet to you?"

"Do you really want me to answer that? More importantly, do you want  
my jeans to come off?" Those damn big innocent eyes. Angel wasn't  
buying it.

"All I really need is one leg." He looked contemplatively down,  
pushed and pulled Lindsey's bootless leg out of the jeans. Stripped  
out of his own, fast, yanked his shirt off, and fell back down.  
Lindsey was laughing again, and trying to pull his own boot off, so  
when Angel hit him he was all bunched up, and got smashed flat. 

"Angel, get OFF!"

"I'm trying! You're not helping!"

"Hoo!" 

Lindsey should laugh more. Looked good on him. He helped with the  
boot and the jeans, and finally, finally, naked. Both of them. And  
he didn't care that his feet were hanging off the end of the couch,  
because he was hard, and SO close to coming, and Lindsey was rubbing  
up against him like a cat, and his eyes were heavy, and those  
ridiculous lashes were making him want to do things. 

"Can we..."

"What?" Neither of them were breathing well.

"Sex?"

"Angel, you think you're putting THAT in THERE, you're nuts."

He was a little hurt.

"You've done it before."

"Yeah, but Angel, you're. Well. Rather large."

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Angel, you're a freak. Accept it."

"Please? I'll be so so careful."

"Jesus. Are you going to whine about it?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Lube is my friend."

"Don't suppose you have any?"

"Duffel bag. Front pocket."

"I'm so impressed."

"You'd better be."

Lube found and applied, and he hoped Lindsey couldn't see his hands  
shaking, but then, Lindsey wasn't paying much attention, since he was  
running his hands all over Angel. Hoped he liked what he was  
feeling, because it felt pretty great from this end. He slid one  
slick finger down past the crease of Lindsey's hip, felt the buck and  
shiver when he touched his cock, gave it a quick pull, it was hot and  
velvet in his hand, and he lingered, just enjoying the feel. Kissed  
him again, enjoying the taste. His hand was slick with pre-come,  
now, and when he dropped his fingers, Lin tilted his hips obligingly,  
moaning into his mouth. Two fingers in, and Lindsey took him easily,  
arching and pushing. Slut. In a good way. He twisted them, looking  
for the sweet spot...FOUND it, because he'd never heard Lindsey make  
that noise before, and the panting was harsh now, like there wasn't  
enough air in the room. Three fingers, and Lindsey's hands were  
rough on him now, pulling and grabbing at his hips, and he was  
sucking his tongue like he could find the meaning of life there. 

It would be a little harder this way, if he remembered correctly, but  
he wanted to see that face when he came. He pulled his fingers free,  
swallowed the 'noooo', lifted one of Lindsey's legs over his  
shoulder. Good thing he was flexible. He lined himself up right,  
and pushed. Just a little. Lindsey froze.

"Slow...Angel..." The hands on his hips were holding him, now.

"OK...ok..." He was biting his own lip to keep from howling. SO  
close. He shifted a little, experimentally. Felt the body  
underneath him relax, open. He slid in a little further, felt the  
tight burning grip, blood-hot fist of muscle around him. Held  
still. Pushed again, and Lindsey wrapped the other leg around his  
waist, and pulled him in, and OH FUCK this was amazing. In all the  
way, and rocking SO gently, and Lindsey was making this incredible  
keening noise, and his skin was sliding slick against Angel, and his  
hands were wild. So intent, intense, and so. damn. hot. 

He moved up a little, bracing on his arms, got a better angle, and  
pushed. Lifted onto one hand so he could reach between them and get  
a grip on Lindsey, who was just out of his head now, blinking fast  
and biting Angel's lips and babbling nonsense sounds. A few more  
strokes and he was gone, he could feel it coming, but Lindsey beat  
him there, arching up off the couch and coming hard, all the muscles  
in that clean, hard body tensing, beautiful. And when he came he  
tightened, and this time Angel couldn't help it, he DID howl, and  
pressed in one more time, unwilling to leave, unwilling for this to  
end, but he couldn't help it, couldn't. And that hot rush of feeling  
in his thighs, his back, the prickling in his scalp, that  
unbelievable tightness between his legs, and one more push, and he  
was gone.

*****

Lindsey was having trouble breathing. He couldn't tell if that was  
because of the mind-blowing orgasm, or the fact that Angel was still  
in him and probably not leaving room for his lungs to function, or  
that Angel was on top of him and was, after all, huge. He shoved at  
him a little.

"Don't you fall asleep on me."

"Wasn't."

"Sure. Get off, before I die."

"I did already."

"Ha fuckin' ha. Your gigantic ass is suffocating me, Angel. Roll,  
or something."

He rolled, but took Lindsey with him, so they were face to face on  
their sides. Lindsey felt the cold air hit the sweat on his back,  
and shivered a little, and big arms came around him and pulled him  
closer.

"You're not exactly a space heater, Ange."

"Pardon me for keeping your ass from hanging in the wind, Linds."  
But neither of them moved. Just breathed, for a minute, or Lindsey  
did and Angel watched him.

"Well." The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but he did feel like  
breaking it. Just because.

"Well."

"That was...fun."

"I told you I'd fit."

"Barely. You freak."

"Who's the freak, the guy with the big dick or the guy who takes it?"

"Oh, nice. Here I am, all acommodating, and you call me names."

"I've been calling you names since the day we met. Good sex isn't  
going to change that."

"It WAS pretty good."

"Yeah. Best I've had in a long time."

"Which for you, could really be centuries."

"Let's not start that again. Just say thank you for the compliment,  
Lindsey."

"Thank you for the compliment, Lindsey."

"You really are four."

"If I am, you just did a very very bad thing."

"Oh, disgusting."

"You started it."

"Did not."

"Did too."

Comfortable silence again, and Lindsey was almost drifting off. The  
last remnants of the whiskey were making him tired, and he was  
comfortable, if a bit sticky. Angel stroked his hair.

"You staying here tonight?"

"Am I invited?"

"Sure."

"Are you going to eat me in my sleep?"

"Only in the best possible way."

"OK." Yawn. "Wake me up early, though, I'm supposed to be in  
Mississippi by Wednesday."

"Mississippi?"

"Yeah, I'm going to try to get a recording contract or something."

"OK. I'll wake you up by nine."

"Thanks, Angel."

Silence. Almost sleep.

"Can I call you Angelina?"

"NO."

"Shit. You are NO fun."

"Whatever, Lindsey. Go to sleep already."

"Valley...." yawn "...girl..."

 

[the end. please don't kill me.]


End file.
